


Extraordinarily Pleased

by rawshark



Category: Shrek (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Adventure, Coming of Age, Curses, Family Secrets, Gen, Growing Up, Leaving Home, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Pregnancy, Rites of Passage, Separation Anxiety, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Love, Sibling Rivalry, Siblings, Teen Angst, Teenage Rebellion, Teenagers, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:28:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23242513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rawshark/pseuds/rawshark
Summary: The ogre triplets, nearly grown, take their first steps into adulthood, while their parents have their own adventure of a lifetime at home.  Truths come to light, relationships are tested, and the next chapter is only just beginning.
Relationships: Fiona/Shrek (Shrek)
Kudos: 6





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter, “Prologue” is just a reposting of the chapter “News” from my other work, “Something Much More Important In Mind,” as it was the inspiration for all this, and did effectively serve as an introduction. So, if you’ve already read it, feel free to proceed to Chapter 1, but if you haven’t, or want a refresher, then by all means.
> 
> As I stated in the above chapter’s original notes, and will reiterate here, I am pulling from hanny spoon’s “Shrek Goes Fourth” on FFN, and am regarding it as a canon base for this story. There are certain concepts, events and character aspects in it that will make subtle appearances here. I may also pull from their other work, “By Night One Way, By Day Another” because it’s great.

A large pinecone cut through the humid summer air, sailing in a perfect spiral, and ricocheted off a thick tree trunk before finally landing in a bush.

" _Nice_ ," Farkle muttered, more to himself than his siblings beside him, and clenched his fist in victory. He started after the pinecone, before a sharp smack on his shoulder stopped him. He whipped around to confront its source. "OW, Fel-"

"Can we focus, please?" She raised an eyebrow at him, tilting her head up slightly to meet his eyeline. Off Felicia's opposite shoulder, Fergus couldn't help but briefly smirk in amusement, looking away quickly as to not be noticed.

"Focus on what? I thought we'd, you know, already come to a conclusion." He rotated his prized throwing shoulder that his sister dared injure, and quickened his pace to keep up with them.

"A conclusion, sure. But… what are we going to _do_ about that conclusion…" Though Felicia's choice of words suggested a question, she trailed off, making even her question seem uncertain.

The "short" walk the siblings had gone off on earlier that morning had turned into a much longer outing than they had anticipated. Their parents had seemed a bit out of it anyway, so it wasn't hard slipping out of the house; hopefully they wouldn't get too hard of a chastising for being out so long and not helping with the day's chores. How useful the three would've been, however, was debatable anyway, with everything that had been on their minds the last few weeks.

Their parents - well, their father mainly - had told them about the ogre tradition of "Leaving Day" several years ago, on the eve of their thirteenth birthday. In telling them about the tradition, he told them, in so many words, about his own Leaving Day. Sensing their ambivalence, their mother added that she'd even had her own "Leaving Day" of sorts, at around the same age, without even being aware of the tradition. (It neither lightened, nor worsened the mood.) Shrek emphasized that it would be completely their choice, and that it would even be their decision whether or not to take part in it at all. And Fiona offered the suggestion that they could even do it together - that is, if they wanted to do it, of course.

Aside from that, no one had really brought it up in the four, nearly five years since - not Shrek, certainly not Fiona, and not the triplets. Because they themselves didn't want to leave.

Well… _hadn't_ wanted to leave.

It's not like they didn't want to _be_ there anymore. Rather, everything that wasn't "there" - their home, Far Far Away, or evening Duloc - was where they _did_ want to be. Even if they didn't know where that was exactly. They had always marveled at the stories Uncle Puss had regaled them with, both about his own adventures as well as those he embarked on with their parents, much to the chagrin of the ogres. Even Uncle Artie couldn't help but reminisce about the things he'd done and seen out there.

Their parents, however, made it quite clear that they were finally - _finally_ \- done with their unintentionally adventurous life. As their father put it, often enough that they could quote it verbatim, he and Fiona "had far 'nough drama 'n intrigue fer a lifetime." And while that may have been true, it was only true for _their_ lifetimes. There were three others that neither of them could speak for.

The siblings passed under the fallen moss-covered dead tree that hung over the well-worn path - the boys needing to duck slightly even under the taller end - signaling they were in the last stretch before reaching home.

Felicia halted, in the long shadow just past the fallen trunk. "We need to tell them."

Her brothers stopped, a couple steps ahead of her, and slowly turned to face her. Their eyes told her they knew she was right, not that they necessarily wanted her to be in that instance.

Sensing Farkle tense in an obligatory argument, she continued. "You both know Mom would know something was up if we tried to keep it from them- _her_. And Dad… well. He'd just want to know, without us hiding anything."

Farkle reflexively smoothed his messy curls back from his face, avoiding looking at either of them.

Fergus's concerned gaze fell from Felicia's to the ground. "Aye." He put his hands in his pockets. His eyes darted around in thought, and he quickly looked back up at them. "But we don't even have a timeframe, a date yet—"

"Why do we need one?" Farkle posited - for once, not for argument's sake, but as a genuine question. There was no sarcasm in his voice or expression.

Felicia was about to counter him, out of habit herself, but stopped as she considered his point.

Fergus finally raised his head calmly. "If anything, letting them know - in general terms, our decision - would be… better, right? Even if we did have a date in mind, them knowing we had everything planned might come across as… a little eager." His siblings slightly deflated in acknowledgement. As much as none of them were particularly fond of vagueness, it was the best they had at the moment.

If only they could have all the positives associated with Leaving Day, without any of the irritating emotional technicalities.

"So." Farkle stated, trying to solidify what little could be in their predicament. "Who's gonna tell 'em?" He looked between his two siblings.

Fergus and Felicia both glanced aside at each other, and then settled their gaze at their brother. A moment passed, and Farkle recognized their dual focus with displeasure.

"Oh come on!" He threw his hands up in exasperation. "Why's it gotta be me?" His fists landed on his hips, creating an eerily familiar silhouette.

"Well," Felicia offered plainly, "You asked." The corner of her mouth curved ever so slightly.

"I'll just, like, say something that'll make this way harder than it needs to be-"

"That's a good point." Fergus muttered, immediately looking up at Farkle in fear, clearly not having meant to say it out loud.

" _Hey_ -" Farkle pointed a finger at Fergus, leaning forward toward him.

"Okay okay okay-" Felicia stepped directly in between them, gently pushing them apart in jest. She looked up - they'd made it to just about a hundred meters from the forest's opening onto the swamp. She saw the smoke billowing from the chimney, took in the way the quickly-setting sun shone off the grass and vines that surrounded the only home they'd ever known. Her brothers turned to look as well, and she felt them settle on either side of her.

"Well then," she began, wrapping her arms around herself, "Since we don't even have a concrete plan on what we're doing about… all this, let's just… see how it goes. Yeah? It'll happen how it'll happen. They'll-" she stopped - she was _not_ about to cry, not now. "They'll get it."

Farkle and Fergus placed a hand on each of Felicia's shoulders, which she met with her own hand atop of them. Suddenly, she threw her arms around their necks and pulled them down to her level. They all laughed as the boys stumbled, replanting their feet in their familiar triangle formation as they pressed their foreheads together. They looked between each other in their huddle and smiled. They nodded in unison, and broke out of their formation as they headed toward the edge of their swamp.

Halfway to the house, past the reed-lined, scum-filled pond, their father's head poked out of the front door.

"Oh no…" Fergus sighed under his breath, waiting to hear him bellow irately at them.

"Kids! Hurry on inside, would ye? We, ah - we have somethin' t'tell ye…" Their father didn't wait for a response, and his head disappeared back into the house, the door remaining half open.

The triplets' stride slowed, as they glanced between each other in mild confusion - their dad certainly didn't sound incensed, or even mildly peeved. He sounded… anxious? Now that was a state they hadn't often seen out of him. As they processed this surprising reaction, they jogged the rest of the way to the front door.

"We, uh… we do _too_ , actually—" Farkle breathed as he grabbed the handle. Felicia gave him a look behind him, to which he mouthed " _What?_ " She shook her head quickly and waved her hand in gentle dismissal.

Their mother sat at the dinner table, in her usual seat, her hands around a mug of tea - a lumpy, hand-sculpted clay cup from so long ago that no one in the family could remember which sibling had made it, not even the kids themselves.

As the three silhouettes of her children entered the sunlit doorway, Fiona lifted her head quickly and smiled at them; she tried to obscure the fact she'd been lost in thought moments before, but her fingers repeatedly tracing the rim of the mug said otherwise.

"You're back." Her warm voice and smile almost made the three of them want to abandon ship right then and there. They could feel one another tense slightly in their close proximity.

Fiona's words made Shrek turn his head, mid-gulp, and the sudden sight of his children in the small house's foyer made him sputter and choke. He luckily recovered with little incident, though not without his breathless insistence he was fine as he made his way to his seat at the head of the table.

"Kids-" he coughed, giving himself a couple more chest pounds for safety, "Go on, have a seat."

Tenderness, to alarm, to continued confusion - the triplets subtly looked to each other for answers they knew none of them had as they found their way to their seats: Fergus beside their mother, Felicia and Farkle next to their father.

Fiona patted her husband's back, less to aid him and more to bring him back to the moment. "You good?" she smirked, speaking low.

He returned her glance. "Aye." He placed his hand on her knee beside his underneath the table. Their mother's hands returned to hold her tea, as if for warmth; Felicia noticed internally, however, the lack of steam coming off the beverage, as if it had been made quite some time ago.

An odd second passed, the siblings looking expectantly at their parents, and their parents looking right back at them.

"Uh… didn't you guys have something to tell us?" Fergus offered carefully, lest they sit there past sunset.

The couple's eyes suddenly lit up, half in remembering, half in embarrassment, and they looked at each other with a half smile.

"Oh! Well, _yes_ ," Fiona replied, "But, didn't you say you also had something, dear?" Her attention turned to Farkle, whose statement she'd heard when they entered.

"I um-" Felicia started, before Farkle could reply, "Well… you and Dad should go first, I think. You're the ones who called us in and all." Her brothers nodded in agreement - not _too_ enthusiastically, fortunately.

"...Right! Yah. That's, ah… yah." Shrek acknowledged his daughter's observation, almost in spite of himself but covered with a nervous grin.

"Are you guys… okay?" Farkle asked. All four ogres turned to him, all surprised at his out-of-character awareness.

"Of course, Fark, we're fine. We're… really good." Fiona's last sentence was directed at no one in particular it seemed, as one hand left her mug and rested on Shrek's below the table, and she inhaled deliberately.

The couple looked up to see their children's confused, concerned faces, not a sight they were used to seeing. They internally wilted, embarrassed at their clear lack of a grasp on the situation. They placed their joined hands atop the table, and glanced at each other quickly.

"Well, kids," Fiona said, smiling at each teenager individually, Shrek following suit. "Your father and I- or, well… rather-" She found her fingers tracing the mug's rim again, and stopped herself. She squeezed her husband's hand lightly.

"I'm pregnant."

Any trace of concern faded from the triplets' expressions, and were replaced by… well, they couldn't really say what. They couldn't really say anything, having been rendered immobile and mute.

Their silence was Fiona's fervent cue to fill it. "I'm- well, we're as sure as we can be at this point, but… I'm pretty sure." She laughed deliberately.

Fergus looked across the table at Felicia and Farkle, still unable to speak, but he could feel his eyes widening against his will, and observed the same in them. He knew their lack of response wasn't helpful in any way, but he couldn't muster one if he tried.

"So…" Fiona continued, taking another deep breath, "You're gonna have a new little brother or sister." She looked between her children, their faces still frozen. Felicia attempted to open her mouth, before her father beat her to it.

"...'Or,' Fi?" He offered lightly. "D'ye really think we'll be able t'get only-"

"Shrek-"

"I'm- I'm just sayin' based on our- track record-"

" _Shrek_ -"

"I mean that'd be nice, but I dunno how likely-"

"Shrek I said _pregnant_ because we don't _know_ any of that yet that's why I didn't _say_ 'having a baby' I don't even _know_ for sure if I _am_ but I am pretty damn _sure_ I am so please just-" Fiona's rapid rambling threatened to tip the scales.

"Hey hey hey hey, I'm sorry, hey hey hey…" Shrek held her face close to his, wiping a stray tear with his thumb.

Through her stunned silence, as her coherency struggled to break through, Felicia observed a small look between her parents as they sat face-to-face, thoroughly unaware or unconcerned they were all sitting there. She saw, in both of their faces, a brief flash of… fear? Perhaps not the same fear that she guessed may have been there seventeen, eighteen odd years ago, but a similar kind. And a reassurance that the other - and themselves - would be okay.

Felicia looked to Farkle and Fergus, and while she couldn't say if the same thoughts occurred to them, she could tell at the very least, that the gravity of their situation had come crashing down upon them just as it had upon her in that moment. They all blinked, seeming to finally break free of their group catatonia.

Shrek and Fiona seemed to remember where they were and who they were with, and they sat back up slowly. Fiona pinched the bridge of her nose and inhaled forcefully, insisting composure return to her.

"Now then...! Heh." Shrek suddenly piped up, his head whipping back to his children, instantly hellbent on lightening the mood. "Wish we'da kept all yer furniture! 'N clothes-"

"I did keep most of their clothes, hon-" Fiona said, half whispered.

"Oh! Aye, good t'-"

Fiona suddenly held up her hand and sighed, stopping herself and her husband, and rubbed her face with her other.

"I'm sorry, kids. This has been…" she glanced at their father, "Well, quite a day."

Shrek nodded slowly, falling into a thousand-yard stare off into the distance, before snapping himself out of it.

"Oh! Ah… yah, sorry guys. So! What was it ye lot wanted t'tell us?"

* * *


	2. They're On Their Way

Three weeks could either drag on endlessly, or pass in the blink of an eye, depending on the circumstances surrounding it. Rarely did both sensations occur simultaneously; and yet, the evening the triplets had informed their parents of their intent felt like just yesterday, as well as too long ago to even pinpoint. Minutes felt like hours in and of themselves, and yet when the family sat down to dinner each night, each ogre wondered to themselves how they’d gotten there so quickly. The time had been filled with laughter, stories, and advice - solicited or otherwise - and very much felt normal, despite the upcoming date present in each of their minds.

“Mmph-- _Grimm--_ ” Farkle muttered as he shoved the too-big wad of clothes into his knapsack, his other hand firmly gripping the bag’s brim. He then used both hands to hold the bag, and used his bare foot to compress the contents down.

“You uh… need help, dude?” Fergus sat on his bed across from his brother’s, having finished packing a good while earlier. His bag - not even close to the same fullness, sat by the closed door to their room. Light shuffling could be heard from their sister’s room on the other side of the wall, signaling that she wasn’t done either.

Of course they had put off packing until the last minute - specifically, the morning of their departure. The kids had tried to sleep late, in a casual attempt to delay the inevitable, but they were woken by the sound of their father starting breakfast, followed by their mother being sick out by the outhouse, to which their father stopped cooking to go and help her. The eventual breakfast was unlike any meal they’d ever had; Shrek had made a giant spread of each of their favorite foods, without even asking them, and Fiona made them leftover packs from it. But even after breakfast as the morning crept by, the incurable nerves in each of their stomachs didn’t translate to a sense of urgency. Not that Fergus had been in a hurry to pack - he just didn’t have as much _to_ pack as either other sibling.

Farkle gave him a look, having detected the sarcasm in Fergus’s voice from the first syllable. “I’m good, actually. But _thanks_.” He shoved his arm under his bed, haphazardly sweeping out things that had presumably gone missing in the extended months between room cleanings. Two socks that weren’t even a pair - don’t need. A… rag? Napkin? Either way - don’t need. As he reached the very back corner, his hand fell on something that made him pause. His eyes widened as his fingers wrapped around the familiar form, and he pulled it out to examine: the elf doll he’d had since… well, since the day he was born. Red yarn hair, green pointy hat and matching tunic, with striped socks and pointy shoes, and a smile stitched below its button eyes. It was definitely worse for wear, though not nearly as much as Felicia’s ogre doll, Sir Squeakles. He’d nearly forgotten all about it, as it had been relegated to that far-off corner below his bed for over a decade, he imagined.

He glanced at his knapsack - it was already bulging, but there was still a smidge more space at the very top near the drawstring. He considered the doll again, and then the bag, before his eyes darted up to his brother, who was observing him. Farkle flushed slightly, before chuckling to break the awkward moment.

“Are you… uh--” Farkle asked as he turned the old toy over in his hand.

Fergus wordlessly opened his own bag, and pulled out a stuffed bunny, similarly well-loved. One ear was hanging on by a few strands, a button eye was missing, and its “fur” was now closer to gray than its original purple.

“You know it.” Fergus smirked at his brother, which soon fell into a genuine grin. Farkle reciprocated both expressions before as he put the elf in his bag - markedly less rough than he’d been with his other belongings - and cinched the rope. He shrugged, just to emphasize how casual he was about it.

As Farkle pulled his boots on and laced them up, the boys noted the sudden lack of activity coming from Felicia’s room, and her mattress creak as she presumably sat down on it. The brothers looked at each other, and Fergus nudged his head toward the wall that Farkle and Felicia’s beds shared. Farkle scooted back toward the wall, and lightly knocked twice. There was a pause, longer than logic would dictate. Farkle glanced back at Fergus questioningly, while the latter only looked at the wall. Suddenly, another mattress creak came from the other side, followed by two identical knocks. The boys glanced at each other again, and stood up from their beds, slinging their bags over their shoulders as Farkle headed toward their door.

* * *

The family had had a later night than usual, having had their closest friends and family over for a small going-away dinner for the kids - Donkey, Dragon, Puss, and Lillian; the dronkies had long since outgrown being able to go inside the house, and celebrated outside with their mother. The days of nightly dinners with the usual crowd had slowly lessened as the years had passed, as each of their proclivity toward adventure waned and their lives pulled them down different paths. 

The triplets had spent the day of the celebration saying goodbye to their friends - and Farkle, his girlfriend - so that they could be fully present for one last hurrah with everyone.

Fiona and Shrek had debated whether to use the occasion to make their announcement, the pregnancy itself having been pretty solidly confirmed in those three weeks; three months along seemed a fair time to let others know. Fiona was primarily concerned not to pull focus from what was supposed to be the triplets’ celebration. But the three had assured her it was fine - if anything, they’d prefer to not be the sole focus of the evening. And despite Shrek’s general avoidance of attention, he concluded it’d be easier to tell them all then and there - less hassle than writing them all letters after the fact. So they waited until the night was dying down and everyone was making their prolonged goodbyes to quietly share the news. It was met with… positivity, albeit a completely shocked and nearly disbelieving positivity. The couple themselves was still very much of the same opinion.

Once Fiona had processed the utter shock of it all - seventeen years and now, _now_ of all times - she realized… she was happy. _Really_ happy, in fact. Four children had been her “dream” that she’d clung to all her years waiting for rescue; having three at once had been a highly convenient, though not at all easy, shortcut. If it had been solely up to her, they’d have tried for more, but her husband’s input had altered those intentions. She had long made peace with it - nothing in her life had gone according to what she or anyone else could have possibly predicted, and she couldn’t ask for a better life if she tried. But now, _now_ that it was happening… well, she couldn’t help but feel like destiny had come into play again. She had never _not_ wanted this pregnancy, even in her deepest moments of anxiety surrounding it. 

And Shrek… was happy, too. Well, he was mostly happy that Fiona was happy. Did he necessarily want a baby? No. But then, had he been asked that eighteen years ago, he would have said the same thing. In fact, she _did_ ask him… not that there was an option at that point. And he couldn’t imagine his life any different.

The few times the topic had come up between the couple - not children, but rather about what they’d do with their time when the kids eventually did go off - they’d never really come to any concrete plans. Travel, perhaps; as much as Shrek had seen more than his share of the world outside his swamp, he conceded - aided by her own staunch admonition - that Fiona really hadn’t. They could take up where they’d left off, before being called to Far Far Away to stand in for Harold and… well, the rest was history. Except… maybe not, after all. He wasn’t much for the “destiny” angle, but he settled that his life had taken a hard turn from what he’d assumed it would be, and it hadn’t steered him wrong yet. This kid - or _kids_ \- would, at the very least, have the best mother they could have, and some amazing big siblings… and a pretty okay dad, he allowed.

* * *

The two bedroom doors creaked open simultaneously, and Felicia looked up at her brothers as she closed her door behind her. She put her other arm through her other knapsack strap, and fiddled with the ends of the straps.

Fiona whipped her head back at the sound of the doors, from where she stood washing dishes at the sink. The sound of firewood clattering to the ground in the front yard soon followed, and Shrek poked his head inside the front door. He shuffled inside as Fiona dried her hands with a towel, and the two parties - parents and children - looked at each other across the main room of the small home.

“Wow… ye all look, ah… well-- ready t’go!” Shrek stated the obvious, his voice more enthusiastic than his body language suggested. He glanced over at Fiona, who he could already tell was beginning to well up tears. He moved to meet her, as the triplets slowly made their way across the room toward them.

“Mom, stop it, you know I’ll--” Felicia started, sniffing in an attempt to hinder her own reaction.

“I know, I know, sorry,” Fiona exhaled through a smile, which she was able to maintain for a solid few seconds before her face began to crumble again. Shrek put his arm around her shoulder, the hand of which she instantly grabbed as she crossed her other arm over herself.

“Ye’ve got ev’rythin’ ye need?” Shrek asked them, for perhaps the fourth time that morning. The kids nodded. “Well… ye should start out, get as much distance as ye can b’fore dark.” The kids nodded again, though they didn’t make any move toward the door, and neither did the couple.

Ten years, no contact; that’s how the tradition went.

But then, they’d never been particularly concerned with adhering to traditions, whether ogre or human or any other origin.

“Six months. Yeah?” Fiona asked, as more of a confirmation of what they’d already agreed upon. Again, the triplets nodded. “If you’d like to stop by in between, that’d be--” she attempted a casual shrug, as to not press the suggestion, “You don’t _have_ to, but if you find yourselves-- well, we’ll be here.” She gave a single chuckle and squeezed Shrek’s hand that still held her shoulder; her other hand dropped to her side, subconsciously fiddling with her dress.

“But-- six months,” she continued, “that’s when-- when _we_ would like you to be back. Maybe even a week or so sooner, if you can. So that-- so you’re the first to meet them.” 

The air seemed to suck out of the room; leaving in and of itself would have been hard enough; now, with all that was happening… but they had to keep going. If their parents had taught them anything, it was that things happen when they’re supposed to happen, _how_ they’re supposed to happen.

“...Well!” Shrek interjected again, the silent sentimentality getting to be too much for him. “If we all stand here all day, I’ll hafta start supper, heh.” Both the kids and Fiona seemed to collectively exhale at his remark, for once grateful for his little quips. 

The five ogres slowly headed toward the front door, each step feeling like a mile. Shrek pulled the front door open, and the midday sunlight streamed into the dimly lit home. 

Fiona stepped into Farkle, wrapping her arms around his neck as he returned her embrace. He leaned down to rest his chin on her shoulder, nearly a whole head taller than her, as she stroked his hair. She then smiled at him, tears having flown down her face, and held his cheeks as she kissed his forehead. He moved onto his father, who grinned warmly at him and brought him into a tight embrace. 

“C’mere, booger.” Shrek felt a short exhale of air against his cheek as his son stifled a laugh, and hugged him tighter in response, which was reciprocated. Shrek gave him a firm pat on the back and a quick kiss on the cheek as they parted, and Farkle shifted closer to the door.

Fergus buried his face in his mother’s shoulder, despite how awkward it was from his height. He felt her shaky breaths in his embrace, and could only take a deep inhale to ensure he didn’t do the same; not that he was opposed, necessarily, but it would have taken that much longer. The two parted and looked at each other, and she smoothed back his wavy brown hair as she kissed his cheek. He then turned to Shrek, meeting him at eye level, and the two clasped each other tightly. “Not essactly a ‘little man’ anymore, aye?” He felt Fergus’s cheekbones raise against his as he smiled, and gave him the same back pat and kiss as his brother.

Felicia and Fiona looked at each for a moment, each ogress similarly overtaken with emotion. Fiona held her arms open for a fraction of a second before her daughter fit herself into them, and likewise Fiona into hers. Fiona stroked her hair and shushed her, telling her it was okay through her own semi-controlled sobs. The two parted, Fiona wiping away her daughter’s tears with her thumbs before kissing her and offering a shaky smile, which Felicia mirrored. 

Felicia then looked up at her father, and any composure she’d gained evaporated as she buried her face in his chest. Shrek held her and rested his chin on her head, and slowly exhaled the breath he only just realized he’d been holding. He rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head, as the two stood there for a prolonged moment.

“Always have to outdo us, don’t you Fel?” Farkle’s heartfelt snark was, for once, well-timed and much-needed.

Felicia immediately lifted her head and shot him a glare, which dissolved into a self-aware snort as she wiped her face. She looked at both of her parents again, smiling as solidly as she could manage, before joining her brothers in the open doorway.

“It’s what I do best, can’t help it.” She pushed him with her shoulder, a slight smirk on her face, as the three stepped out the door.

“And _write--_ don’t forget to write,” Fiona chirped, as she and Shrek stood in the threshold.

“Ye guys’ll be great out there. Better come back with stories! Ye owe me quite a few.”

The kids smiled, then glanced aside at each other, tentatively.

“Jus’ keep walkin,” their father added. “Ye’ll find… somewhere t’go. Don’ look back… ‘r else I might jus’ go runnin’ after ye, heh.”

Fiona nodded insistently, her lips tightly held together in a genuine smile to prevent another bout of sobs.

The siblings then turned, and headed down the courtyard, across the fallen log that bridged the swamp water, and into the tall trees of the forest. The couple stood there, until the last faint sound of their footsteps faded away.

Fiona turned into her husband’s shoulder, and let herself crumble into sobs. He held her gently, letting her cry into him as long as she needed. His eyes lifted from her head to back down the path, and for a split second he betrayed himself by hoping he’d see them running back down it toward the house. _Tha’s not very ogre of ye,_ he thought to himself. _They’ll be fine. Both a’ye will be fine._

He let his chin settle atop his wife’s head as her sobs subsided and her breathing regulated. She moved her arms from around his neck to his middle, hugging him tighter, and he felt his throat constrict as the small, barely-present bump pressed into his own stomach. _Ah. Righ’. Tha’ too._

Fiona lifted her head to look at her husband, her eyes red and heavy, before planting her forehead back into his chest.

“They’ll be fine,” he said, out loud this time. “Iss like they’re… goin’ on a campin’ trip. They’ve done loads’a those b’fore.”

Fiona inhaled deeply, wiping her eyes into his tunic. “I know,” she said. “Just a… really, really long… camping trip.” She offered a weak smile up at him, and he moved a stray lock of hair from her eyes.

“Hey, I’ll ah, finish those dishes fer ye. ‘N then I’ll finish with the firewood out front.”

“Are you sure? I can--”

“Aye. Go rest.” He smiled down at her, and gave her a light peck on the lips. 

She looked at him a minute, before succumbing to the yawn she’d been suppressing, to which she smiled in spite of herself. “Okay.” She placed a hand on his chest, to direct him inside, before taking one last look down the swamp’s courtyard toward the forest. She took a deep, deliberate breath, before turning inside.

Fiona indulged him in escorting her to bed - it was nice, she admitted, being doted on again. 

Shrek closed the curtain, and headed to the sink to finish washing the dishes, but found his attention fizzling out after only a few minutes. Out of the corner of his eye, he couldn’t help but notice the boys’ room door was open a crack. He tried to go back to the dishes, but after a moment of staring blankly into the sink, he let the dish in his hands drop back into the water. He craned his head to see into the curtain gap if Fiona was still asleep - she was. 

He quickly dried his hands, and slipped into their shared room, opening the door just enough to get in, but not enough to make it squeak.

It was strange - it was as if nothing had changed. The only indicator to the contrary was that Farkle had actually made his bed. Each of their shelves were still filled with various books, photos, old toys; upon closer inspection, however, Shrek noticed a conspicuously empty space on the top shelf of Fergus’s, and the telltale round spot where dust had failed to settle over the years. 

He had taken his bunny. The bunny Fiona had made for him.

He would check if Farkle had taken his elf, but he had no idea where he’d even begin to look for where it’d been kept, as it wasn’t the shelf. He wagered he took it, as well. He didn’t need to wonder if Felicia took Sir Squeakles.

Shrek looked out the small window between the beds onto the vast lake behind the house. Not sure what else to do with himself, he sat down on Farkle’s bed, and stared blankly across at Fergus’s. He took a deep breath in, letting himself have a moment to himself. Suddenly, he felt his eyes sting with wetness, and his throat constricted. Without another option, he exhaled, and gave into the choked sob he was, at the very least, glad had waited to surface until now. He covered his mouth with both hands, and wept as silently as he could.

On the other side of their bedroom curtain, Fiona lay in bed, listening to what she knew her husband thought was a private moment of vulnerability. She knew he had been trying to stay strong for her and the kids, and he would come to her when he was ready. She felt guilty, in a way, listening in on this moment. But she knew he needed this moment to himself. She wiped the tears that had unsurprisingly come to her own eyes again, and tried to go back to sleep.

Shrek stepped out of the boys’ room, unsure of how long he’d been in there. His eyes were heavy, but his breathing had leveled out. He pulled the door fully shut behind him, and glanced to the side at Felicia’s door. He began to reach for the handle, but stopped himself; he wasn’t sure if he’d leave it that evening once he entered. He turned on his heel and went outside to finish chopping the firewood, and when that was complete, he came back in to finish the dishes.

As he dried his hands, he resolved to start dinner, but found himself realizing just how tired he, too, was. He softly ascended the small steps that lead up to his and Fiona’s bed, and peaked around the curtain.

She appeared to still be asleep, turned toward the window away from him. Shrek took another step inside to check she was indeed asleep - if she wasn’t, he’d ask her what she’d prefer to eat.

Fiona was indeed still asleep, her head resting on her arm, bangs having fallen over her face. Her other arm was draped over her side, her hand having landed on her middle.

Shrek gazed down at his wife - a familiar sight, long since filed away - and smiled. They _would_ be okay.

* * *

The siblings walked along the path as it became less defined, less traveled, wrapping through the trees that seemed to only get taller and thicker. 

They came upon a familiar fork in the path - turning left would take them to the hideout fort they’d built with their dad many years prior - to which they turned right.

Felicia kept a half-step ahead of her brothers, redirecting her energy from her emotional reactions to making as good time as possible before sunset. 

The three trekked along wordlessly, gripping their knapsack straps in each fist, focusing on the ground ahead of them.

They came upon a clearing in the woods - no path in any direction, aside from that which they’d come from - was detectable.

Fergus opened a small outer pocket on his bag, and withdrew a compass. He let the needle find its way, then nodded his head in the direction it suggested.

It was a good, long while of fighting through thick brush before the siblings found relief. All at once, they burst from the dark overgrowth into an open field - sparse trees here and there, but otherwise lush, green grass as far as they could see. They also realized how late in the day it had gotten, as the sun was quickly setting in the horizon.

At the very edge of their vision, they could just make out a rectangular, grey tower, surrounded by a small, well-organized township. Just what they’d been looking for.

“Should we… you know…” Felicia gestured to the field they stood in, conveniently encircled by bushes with colorful thorned flowers.

“Aye,” Fergus said, and the three began to unpack their camping supplies.

They laid out their sleeping bags, and began to dig into their leftovers… the last meal they’d have that wasn’t their own endeavor. As their impromptu dinner progressed, they couldn’t help but glance around at each other, their eyes giving themselves away. They were excited. They were finally here. On their way. 

“So,” Farkle finally began, “Early night tonight, for an early morning tomorrow.”

Fergus and Felicia nodded.

“And then…” Farkle waited for someone else to finish his thought.

“Tower?” Fergus offered.

Felicia nodded. “Tower.”

* * *


End file.
